


Boston Creme, Large Coffee, You

by stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou)



Series: Kaer Morsels [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, baker!Eskel, soft, tooth rotting domesticity, writer!Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/stfustucky
Summary: Jaskier hates mornings, but he loves donuts. Eskel is the absolute beefcake owner of a bakery that Jaskier keeps dragging his ass out of bed to go visit, morning after morning. Jaskier just wants to take a bite of.... uh, the donut. Yeah, that's it.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Kaer Morsels [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974415
Comments: 93
Kudos: 482





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time I was procrastinating working on the next chapter of my longfic, and then this happened. Now, it's part 1 of a three-part series centering around a bakery because I have no self control. What else is new.
> 
> This fic is finished. Updates when I feel like editing or my peers bully me into doing so.
> 
> Enjoy!

"I don't understand why I'm here," Jaskier groans, resenting every drop of sunlight currently piercing his eyelids. Which is very little, considering the sun is only barely coming up and he's wearing sunglasses and also his eyes are closed, but still. It's at least three sunlight and that is three too many. He misses his best friends, blackout curtains and his bed.

"Like, existentially, or in this location?" Priscilla asks serenely. Of course she's serene. She's a fucking  _ morning person. _

"This location. Well, actually, both, but fuck you double for bringing up the first one. I'm stressed enough as it is."

"How are you stressed? You're just shuffling along with your eyes closed as I hold your hand and lead you along. You have zero responsibilities right now except existing. Maybe breathing if you wanna be spicy."

At that, Jaskier  _ has _ to open his eyes, to see whether his best friend has truly turned into a monster as it seems. "Yeah, at  _ six in the morning. _ No one should have to exist this early, Priscilla. It's inhumane. I have rights, you know."

"Yeah, and I have the right to not have to stand in line to buy these tickets alone," Pri fires right back at him, which... alright, that's fair. They both want tickets to the musical that's being put on this summer at the local theater, but it's going to sell out so quick that there's already a line forming to buy seats, and it  _ would _ be kind of a dick move to have her go and stand there all morning by herself. She's right, he's definitely morally obligated to stand there with her. He hates when she's right.

"We've been walking for hours to get there and we're still hours away," he grumbles, just to make sure his displeasure is noted.

"We got off the bus five minutes ago, and it's like four more blocks away. Buck up, buttercup, I promise you will survive this day even if it kills you."

Now that his eyes are open and have adjusted to the cruel reality which is real daylight, Jaskier is delighted to see a little shop coming up with a fat, cheerful circle adorning its window that promises his favorite breakfast delicacy inside. "Donuts!" he declares with enthusiasm, pointing it out and yanking at Pri's arm for emphasis. "I need one. Multiple ones. Take me there, my faithful guide dog, for I can no longer expose my delicate pupils to this heinous display of celestial torture."

"Compare me to a dog again and I'll take you to a dumpster. And toss you in."

She must oblige, though, because a moment later Jaskier feels a rush of warm air and hears the jingle of a shop bell and then gets lost in the glorious scent of freshly baked goods. "Oh, this is heaven," he declares. "This is where I want to die."

"You don't die in heaven. You die and then  _ go _ to heaven. Although that's an optimistic outlook knowing you."

"First of all, fuck off. Second of all.... no wait, that was all. Fuck off twice."

"Here, sit at this table and I'll get you a donut, you big baby. No one's at the counter, they must be in the back still."

Jaskier is shuffled into a chair and allowed to collapse forward onto the cool surface of a table in an appropriately dramatic fashion. "I want a Boston creme one, or whatever they have with lots of chocolate frosting. And a really big coffee, Priscilla, you know I need a coffee."

"I know you need a lobotomy."

Jaskier's brain is too tired to come up with a scathing retort for that, so instead he just flicks her off and contents himself to suffer in silence. There's soft music playing in the background, some relaxed acoustic covers of pop songs, and some vague shuffling kitchen-y noises coming from the back of the shop. Still no one emerges from the kitchen, however, and Jaskier feels his stomach give a very displeased rumble.

"Christ on a stick, whose cock do I have to suck to get a donut and some coffee around here?" he groans into the tabletop.

He gets a cleared throat in response, which is weird because it doesn't sound like it came from the right direction of where he's pretty sure Priscilla is standing. Frowning, Jaskier lifts his head and opens his eyes, scanning the room in confusion. There's Priscilla, with her face buried in her hands, standing in front of the counter. And then, behind the counter, holding a tray of what appear to be fresh donuts with rainbow sprinkles, is a very good looking man with a sinfully adorable flush on his cheeks.

"Uh, I usually just charge money for them," Beefcake Baker mumbles, and oh boy, Jaskier is  _ toast. _

He's tall, with dark hair that's just long enough to tuck behind his ear and eyes such a light, bright shade of green that they look almost yellow. They're so distractingly gorgeous that it takes Jaskier a moment to even register that the side of Beefcake's face is marred by three long scars. It doesn't make him any less attractive, only that much more intriguing. Those harsh lines look even more interesting when juxtaposed with that sweet blush on his cheeks and his neck. All of that, combined with the fact that he's built like a brick house, makes Jaskier want to curl up in the pocket of his apron and never come out.

"Right, well. Can't always get what you want, I suppose," Jaskier says breathlessly.

That only makes Beefcake flush even redder, much to Jaskier's delight. "Uh, is there-- well, I guess you already said what you wanted. Donut and coffee, right?"

_ Among other things, gorgeous.  _ "And here you come in with a whole tray, right on time. My hero."

"That's what I do," Beefcake says, looking pleased. "Do you want me to put it in a box for you?"

Jaskier is well aware of exactly how thick he's laying it on when he bats his eyelashes at BB and says, "No need. Just give it to me now, I can't wait to get a taste."

Priscilla snorts, which is a good thing because Jaskier had honestly forgotten her entire existence for a minute there and the reminder that he is not alone with the new love of his life is very helpful for his self control. "Yeah, hi, I'll have one, too, please. Actually, make it two, since Jaskier's paying. He's just so generous like that."

He most certainly had  _ not _ been intending to pay for her donuts as well, but now that she's put it like that, he can't exactly say no. Can't have his future husband thinking he's a cheapskate. "Of course, my poor  _ friend," _ he answers through only slightly gritted teeth, making sure to emphasize the last word so that there can be absolutely no confusion on Beefcake's part about the nature of this relationship. "Anything for you."

Beefcake --whose name is actually Eskel, Jaskier sees from the embroidery on his apron when he walks over to the counter to get a better work-- gives one donut to each of them and then places the second one in a little box for Pri. She takes her treats over to the table that Jaskier used to occupy and starts munching happily, leaving Jaskier to lean against the counter and continue flirting mercilessly with Eskel in relative privacy as the man makes his coffee to Jaskier's tastes. "Big and sweet, just the way I like my men," he tells Eskel shamelessly, which makes him grin.

"I like the aesthetic of these donuts, by the way," comments Jaskier, toasting Eskel with his half-eaten treat. There's a little drizzle of glaze in the six colors of the rainbow on top of the chocolate, with colorful sprinkles dusted on top. "It's very bright and cheery. I heartily approve, though if I could offer some feedback for improvement, I'd say it needs more glitter. But then again, I find that most things in life are better suited to my tastes with a little extra sparkle thrown in."

"I'll make a note of that, Jaskier," Eskel hums, and good fucking grief does Jaskier's name sound good in his mouth. "I'm glad you like them. I always try to make some fun treats for uh, you know, pride month. I've got some pink and blue and purple glaze ready for the next batch. They're.. my flag colors," he finishes at a mumble.

Pink and blue and purple, that's... bisexual. At the realization, the clouds part, the sun shines down on Jaskier, and every queer angel in heaven sings the Hallelujah Chorus.  _ Thank the fucking lord, he likes boys. _

"Well, Eskel, I wish I could stick around to see them," Jaskier says with genuine regret. "They sound absolutely darling. Probably would be the..." He makes a big show of looking at Eskel and his donut, counting silently on his fingers. "Yes, definitely the third loveliest thing I would've seen today."

"Guess you'll have to come back again sometime," smiles Eskel, eyes warm. "I change it up every day. Try to keep things interesting."

"I am definitely interested," Jaskier declares. "And I will definitely be back. How much do I owe you for making my morning?"

Eskel ducks his head shyly once more and rings Jaskier up for his purchases, inviting him to come back to Kaer Morsels anytime. Jaskier is very proud of himself for not looking back over his shoulder even once as he walks away, though he can't resist the urge to put a little extra sway in his hips during his exit just in case Eskel happens to be watching him leave. Priscilla, now working on her second donut, waits until the door has shut behind them with another cheerful chime of the door bell before she looks at him with deep amusement.

"Did you leave all your chill at home today, or what?" she asks him, voice knowing. "Why not just bend over and let him take you right there on the display cabinet?"

Well that's certainly an idea that Jaskier will be exploring at great length when he gets home later and gets to spend some quality time with his dick. "Because you were there cockblocking me, obviously," he fires back, jutting his chin out defiantly.

"I didn't cockblock you, I was too busy being a fucking amazing wingwoman! It isn't my fault that you were trying to get some action in the middle of a public place where there's nowhere for me to go to give you privacy."

"You know your way to the bus stop, you could have been home by now bothering someone else!"

"I did not go through the headache of getting you out of the house before noon for me to go home empty-handed, Jaskier Pankratz. We are  _ getting _ those tickets."

Right, the tickets. The whole reason why they're walking down this street with the sun barely up over the horizon, a warm cup of coffee in Jaskier's hands and an even warmer glow of hope in his chest. "Fine, I suppose it's only sensible," he assents, sipping the perfectly sweetened heavenly nectar and gesturing to the street before him. "Lead the way, darling. The sooner we get out of line, the sooner I can go home and start planning my outfits. I have a soft baker boy to impress, and my wardrobe isn't suited for that at all."

"You could always go for the classic 'nothing but what your mama gave you' outfit," Pri suggests thoughtfully.

"And that's why we're friends."

..................... 

Jaskier's back at Kaer Morsels the very next day, even earlier than before, the promise of sweets of both the culinary and cutie persuasions putting a little extra pep in his step as he makes his way down the street. Priscilla isn't with him this time, which is probably for the best. If she knew that he was out this early just to see some guy, he'd wind up hearing about it for the next three hundred years, and then he'd have to kill her, which would be sad.

There's another customer in the shop when he arrives, an older man in a three piece suit who is just leaving with two heavily laden bags in his hands. Jaskier holds the door for him on his way out, getting a nod and polite, "Thank you, good day," for his trouble. When Jaskier looks back at the counter, he sees Eskel grinning at him openly from behind the display.

"You came back," Eskel says without preamble, dusting some powdered sugar off of his hands. "I didn't know if you would. You didn't seem to like being out and about yesterday."

"Yesterday I didn't have such good motivation to get out of bed," Jaskier says with a wink. "How could I lay around all day in bed when I could come here and get to enjoy such a delicious... donut?"

"Donuts," Eskel says dazedly, then brightens. "Yes! I made you an extra special batch this morning."

"You did not," scoffs Jaskier, to cover up how pleased the idea of that makes him. "You just said you didn't think that I would come back."

"I didn't  _ know _ if you would," he's corrected by the baker, "but I really was  _ hoping _ you would. _ " _

The tray that Eskel points out in the display is even more colorful than yesterday's creations. There are a dozen donuts, each decorated with a different design. They're all done with the kind of colored sugar that looks like glitter, making the whole tray glimmer under the bright lights of the display. They're all done up to look like various pride flags, he realizes, even right down to a jelly donut with the complicated stripe design of the ally flag on it. He's been very thorough, and Jaskier can't wipe the smile off his face.

"Eskel, these are amazing," he says with genuine delight, leaning in closer to take them in. "I fucking love it. How long did they take you to make, all night?"

"Nah, not that long," Eskel shrugs, though he looks pleased with the praise. "I took your advice, with the sparkle. You were right."

"I usually am, and don't you forget it." 

"So, is there... any that you like?" Eskel asks slowly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I mean-- which one is your favorite? Is there one that's... for you?"

He doesn't have to explain the question any further. "That one, middle row, third one back," Jaskier says, careful not to smudge the glass as he points. "That's the one for me, I think." The donut Eskel pulls from the tray and presents to Jaskier on a little napkin is fairly simple, three thick stripes of glitter in light blue, yellow, and pink. "Ah, yes, perfect," Jaskier croons, ducking his head in eagerly to take a bite. He's delighted to find that it's filled with creme and frosted with white chocolate, a pastel recreation of a Boston Creme. "My favorite! You  _ and _ the donut."

If he's not mistaken, the look on Eskel's face is one of palpable relief. He can practically see the little wheels turning in Eskel's head as he clocks that Jaskier has selected the pansexual flag donut, and all that implies. "I'm glad you like it," he says with a breathy little laugh. "Really glad. Uh, do you want some coffee, too?"

"The answer to that question is literally always yes."

He remembers Jaskier's coffee order from yesterday and once again makes it to perfection, handing the warm paper cup to Jaskier with a smile. "It's on the house," he says when Jaskier tries to pull out his wallet and pay. "Consider it payment for your consultation services. I can hardly charge a man who's practically one of my own staff for a bit of breakfast."

"Well aren't you just the sweetest," Jaskier laughs. "You ought to be careful about giving out free treats, though. You'll get me all spoiled, and then the next thing you know I'll be back in here looking for more. How do you know I'm not the type to... take advantage of you, Eskel?"

"I want you to," Eskel answers at once, then goes red as he hears the implications behind both of their words. "I mean-- I just meant that I want to make you come. Come to the  _ shop,"  _ he splutters, digging his grave ever deeper. "I want to make you come back to the shop, to take advantage of... never mind," he sighs, dropping his head into his hands. "I'm just going to stop talking now."

Jaskier takes pity on him and does his best to stifle a laugh at Eskel's flustered expense, reaching across the counter to pat his shoulder sympathetically. "I'll see you tomorrow, Eskel."

On his way out the door, Jaskier makes a point of reaching up and tucking a ten dollar bull into the plastic jar on top of the display cabinet labeled 'TIPS' despite Eskel's protests as he does so. He's trying to get in good with the staff here, so sue him.

.....................

It becomes a habit. Every morning, Jaskier sets his alarm for an obscenely early hour and drags himself out of bed so that he can go get coffee and a treat from Kaer Morsels. It's actually been working out well for him; the early rising has been stimulating a new part of his brain, which is always welcome for a novelist. When he gets home from his morning errand, he usually gets in a few solid hours of writing before succumbing to a late morning nap. It's not always  _ good _ writing, but it's something, and Jaskier has always been one to focus on the positives of a situation, personally.

He tells his new friend all about his latest project-- because he  _ is _ a friend, Jaskier discovers to his delight. There's flirtation, sure, but he's also getting to know Eskel little by little through the conversations that they have every morning. He learns that Kaer Morsels is a spin on Kaer Morhen, which is the name of a cabin where Eskel and his family used to go every summer. He learns that Eskel isn't just a baker, but the owner of the little shop, with his two brothers working alongside him. He learns that the scars on Eskel's face came from a small explosion caused by a cooking mishap when the boys were all young, which somehow, miraculously, only made all three of them want to spend  _ more _ time in the kitchen.

He also learns that Eskel is one of the kindest, most generous and genuine people that Jaskier has ever met. It's a breath of fresh air.  _ He _ is a breath of fresh air.

In return Jaskier shares many small bits of himself, but that isn't so special, really. Jaskier is an open book, a story that practically reads itself to anyone walking by. He's been told before that it's one of the least attractive qualities about him, in fact, but that doesn't stop Eskel from hanging on his every word. He listens intently as Jaskier talks about dropping out of university to pursue writing full time, and instead of chastising him for taking such a big risk, Eskel applauds him for having the bravery to pursue his passion. 

He listens with equal interest as Jaskier describes his favorite reality TV show, and his favorite childhood treat, and the drama brewing between his best friends Priscilla and Essi as they both pretend they're not into each other, and a dog that he saw yesterday on his bus ride home that looked like it was a bizarre mix between a chihuahua and a husky. It doesn't matter how big or small they are, the things that Jaskier has to say. Eskel hangs on every word, and Jaskier has never felt so heard in his entire life.

Every day is good, and every day is different. There's always something new in the display case, something colorful and maybe even a little sparkly, catching Jaskier's eye and making his stomach rumble. More days than not, his favorite flavor of donut is there waiting for him, as fresh as humanly possible. Of course Jaskier is aware that he isn't the only customer who comes to this shop, and so these things probably aren't  _ actually _ 'for' him, so to speak. Still, the pleased little smile that Eskel gives him whenever Jaskier picks the prettiest thing in the display case and sighs happily around that first bite is enough to convince Jaskier that his opinions on the shop's offerings aren't exactly unimportant, either.

Eskel keeps trying to refuse his money, and Jaskier keeps insisting on paying anyways. One day Eskel goes so far as to try hiding the tip jar when Jaskier comes in, but Jaskier just folds his bill into a paper airplane and sails it over the counter before bolting out the door. That'll teach him to try to outsmart a genius.

"Why do you always come in so early?" Eskel asks him one day, when he's a little bit hungover from a late night out and clinging to his cup of coffee like it's his only reason for continued existence. "You hate mornings. We're open from six in the morning to eight at night, you don't have to come in first thing."

"You work the opening shift, though," Jaskier yawns. "I don't know what the people you employ are like. How am I to know whether they're to be trusted with my caffeination needs? And besides, it's quiet in here this early. I don't have to compete for your attention."

"You trying to get me alone?" Eskel asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It makes his scars softer somehow.

"You've found out my nefarious plan," confirms Jaskier solemnly.

"It's a pretty good plan, actually." Eskel shakes his head and returns to his task, loading up the display case with little croissants. "We're unusually slow here in the mornings, thanks to our location. Most of our business comes from people who are shopping or working at the other small businesses around here, and they don't usually open up until at least eight."

"Exactly. So I can't come any later. Then you might have to talk to someone else and I'd wilt without your attentions." Jaskier puts the back of his hand to his forehead and feigns a swoon like a dramatic Victorian maiden.

He's rewarded with one of Eskel's rare belly laughs, which are low and rumbling and genuine and turn Jaskier's insides to mush. The sound is unfortunately interrupted by that of the bell above the door, which tinkles to let them both know that they're no longer alone. The irony of the situation doesn't escape either of them, and Eskel shoots Jaskier a regretful smile. "Don't wilt on me, promise?" Jaskier winks at him and goes to sit at his favorite little table, allowing Eskel to turn his attention on the man who just walked in. "Good morning, Regis. The usual?"

"No sense changing it up now," the man replies. He's clearly a regular, and as Jaskier looks more closely at him he realizes it's the same older man that he saw come in last week as well, around this same time in the morning. Apparently he's not the only one with a routine when it comes to getting his treats from Kaer Morsels.

"Not a problem," Eskel is telling him. "Give me a minute, let me see if Geralt is done with your order yet."

It's news to Jaskier that there was anyone else in the shop besides them, but he doesn't let on. He pulls out his safety blanket --AKA his phone-- and plays around on that while he sips his coffee and tries to be subtle in looking over the well-dressed stranger. His clothes are nice, clearly expensive and well-tailored to him, but just a little disheveled. Like he'd woken up this morning and gotten dressed in the same two minutes that he'd brushed his teeth and run his fingers through his graying hair, or like he got bored halfway through tying his tie and just said, 'Fuck it.' Nonetheless, he's handsome enough.

So is Geralt, when the mysterious second worker appears from the back with two large boxes that are loaded with baked goods, if the delicious smells that waft out of the kitchen with him are any indication. He's younger, Eskel's age, with hair that's dyed a pretty silvery-white and shaved into an undercut, the top section pulled up into a messy bun. He has snakebite piercings in his lower lip and one in his eyebrow, and his eyes are ringed with a smudge of eyeliner. His muscles are a little leaner than Eskel's, but he still cuts an impressive figure.

"Good morning, Geralt," Regis says when Geralt walks in with the boxes, standing a little straighter. "How are you?"

"Tired," Geralt grunts, but he gives Regis a weak smile. "You want bags?"

"If you don't mind. And how's little Ciri?"

That makes Geralt's smile widen a little further, almost enough to contradict the dark circles under his eyes as he packages up Regis' order in oversized plastic bags. "She's great. She won first place in her school talent show last week, and she won't stop walking around the apartment in the little plastic tiara they gave her and declaring herself the queen of everything."

"Ah, so she gets her excellence from you, then." Regis winks across the counter at Geralt as he pulls out his credit card, but the younger man misses it as he squints at the register screen and keys in a few buttons.

"I can't sing for shit," Geralt does snort. "Go ahead and swipe."

"I couldn't say, I've never had the pleasure of hearing you try," Regis says smoothly, following Geralt's instructions without so much as glancing at his total. "But I do know that when I think about the thing in this world that I most wish to taste, it's you that comes to mind."

Jaskier's eyebrows shoot up, both impressed by the smoothness of that line and shocked by the boldness of the delivery, but it seems to go right over Geralt's empty little head. "Best everything bagels this side of town," he hums distractedly.

"Bagels, yes." Regis doesn't seem surprised at Geralt's obliviousness, as if this is something that happens frequently between them. Given how few and far between Geralt's brain waves seem to be, Jaskier isn't surprised in the least.

Geralt may not have noticed the thorough eyefucking he was getting from his customer, but his smile is still genuine as he grabs hold of Regis' receipt as it spits slowly out of the little printer and stuffs it into one of the bags. "All set. See you next week."

"I can't wait."

Before he tucks his wallet back into his breast pocket, Regis takes a bill from it and folds it carefully to push it through the opening of the tip jar. "You don't have to do that," Geralt grunts, rolling his eyes. "Told you, you already pay enough for the food."

"Yes, but I haven't paid for the pleasure of seeing the staff, and that's a treat in and of itself," Regis serenely answers. Then he takes one of the bags in each hand and starts making his way towards the door, calling over his shoulder, "Have an incredible day, Geralt. Doctor's orders."

"Yeah, you too."

With that, Regis breezes out of the shop and Geralt disappears back into the kitchen, being replaced with Eskel once more. The dark-haired baker comes bearing a tray of unfrosted donuts and a few bags of colorful icing yet to be applied. He sets them down on a bit of free workspace and leans on the counter to look at Jaskier with mischief in his eyes. "Did you see that shit?"

Unable to resist a good tea spill, Jaskier snatches up his coffee and comes closer so that he can whisper to Eskel and not be overheard. "There's a story there and I demand to know it."

"So Geralt's the good-looking brother," Eskel begins, "but he was also born with like one brain cell and most of the time it's dormant. Regis, the customer? Filthy rich surgeon who's been flirting with Geralt for about a year now. He hasn't even noticed."

"I watched them talk for all of two minutes and even I could tell," Jaskier scoffs.

"Oh it's not subtle  _ at all, _ Geralt is just that dumb. He usually works the mid shift, but on Tuesdays he comes in earlier so he can take his daughter to ballet class after school. Single dad. Guess what day of the week Regis always magically decides to come in so he can pick up breakfast for all the nurses in his department?"

"Couldn't be Tuesday, could it?" Jaskier says with an eye roll.

"Guessed it in one. Lambert and I have a bet going about how long it'll take for Geralt to notice. I've got extra money riding on the outcome of Regis having to just say it outright really slow for him. Lambert has more faith in Geralt, but he's young and naive. He still thinks there's a chance for that big, beautiful himbo."

"Oh no, I'm with you, if he hasn't caught on by now there's no hope for him," Jaskier says sadly. "I disagree with you only on one point."

"Yeah? What's that?"

Jaskier takes a long sip of his coffee, waiting until Eskel makes eye contact with him to deilver his answer. "That Geralt is the good-looking brother. I mean, granted, I haven't met this Lambert lad yet, so I can't give a full verdict, but so far I wouldn't put Geralt in the lead. He's not my type."

It makes Eskel go red, and god does Jaskier enjoy making this man blush. It might be among his top five favorite pastimes, in fact. "Geralt is everyone's type," Eskel mumbles after a beat, shrugging his shoulder as if it isn't important. "He's like the quarterback of the football team. Everyone wants him."

"Never been one for quarterbacks, myself," muses Jaskier, looking Eskel up and down a touch more obviously than he's ever dared before. "I prefer a nice raven-haired linebacker, personally."

Oh yeah, the blushing is definitely a favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I'm not saying I'd suck a dick for a boston creme most mornings but
> 
> stfustucky | tumblr  
> @stfustucky | twitter  
> Charlie Stfustucky#3055 | discord


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookie bullied me

Jaskier starts staying longer and longer every morning when he comes to the shop. At first he brings a book so that he might have some excuse, but Eskel doesn't seem to need it. He gets this big grin on his face every time Jaskier walks through the door, and he seems to be trying to find reasons to be out in the front of the shop, too. Sometimes he brings out trays of half-finished pastries that need tending to and plops them on the counter to work on. Other times he comes and sits at the table with Jaskier and just talks to him, sipping a piping hot mug of tea and chatting the slow morning hours away. There must be other things for him to do, but if so, he doesn't let on.

He cooks for Jaskier, too, items that Jaskier searches for on the big, hand-lettered chalkboard menus high on the wall behind the counter. They aren't there. These are just for Jaskier, little breakfast sandwiches and grilled sausages and other savory treats that Jaskier happily scarfs down. When he asks, Eskel just shrugs and says, "You can't live off of donuts alone. You need some protein in your diet instead of pure sugar every morning."

There's a joke in there somewhere about Eskel wanting to get some meat into him, but Jaskier isn't sure that Eskel's ready for that level of teasing just yet. Best not to break the boy too early in the game. So he just clutches his imaginary pearls in mock offense, makes a comment about that being big talk from a man who owns and operates a bakery, and happily finishes off the rest of his bacon and eggs.

He still refuses to let Jaskier pay. Jaskier still pays anyways, with a wink and a smile to boot.

..................... 

"Eskel, you big, beautiful baker boy, I'm absolutely famished. Feed me this instant or I will die," Jaskier declares as he walks through the doors with a dramatic flourish. No one is there to see it, disappointingly. He briefly considers going back outside and doing it again, but that's entirely too much effort for six in the morning on a Thursday. He settles for leaning over the counter and peering towards the entrance to the kitchen instead. "Eskel?"

"Hang on a second, Jask," Eskel calls from the back, his voice accompanied by the clatter of metal baking sheets. The sound of the nickname in his low voice makes Jaskier melt like butter on a hot scone. "Your coffee and donut are on the counter for you. I have something special for you today, too."

"You always have something special for me," Jaskier answers, stomach fluttering. Spotting the insulated cup set out near the register, he snatches it up and takes several long draws of the hot beverage. There's a donut there too, this one frosted yellow with a smiley face piped onto it that promptly gets destroyed when Jaskier takes a big bite. As he chews, he returns the rest of the donut to his napkin for now and makes a platter of his hands to display himself on, making sure that he'll be a pretty picture for Eskel to look at when he comes back out into the shop. "Terribly spoiled, really."

"Yeah, but I like you that way," Eskel says with a huff, appearing at last with a plate in his hands that's covered by a little bread cloth. "Good morning," he adds, face soft.

"Good morning to you, too," Jaskier hums. He drops his pose so that he can take another bite of donut and wash it down with a long draw of coffee. "Alright then, your secrecy has made me curious. What's under the cloth?"

"Before I show you, I should warn you that it might be disappointing," Eskel says, and he actually sounds a little nervous. "I've never made this recipe before this week, and it took a little fiddling. I'm not entirely sure that I got the balance of flavors right. But I wanted to let you try it, so you could tell me what you though. But yeah, it might be shit. But if it is, you can tell me, and I can keep trying."

"I'm sure it'll be lovely," says Jaskier gently, giving Eskel his best, most winning smile. "You haven't disappointed me yet. Go on, out with it, what's your secret new recipe?"

Rather than telling him, Eskel takes a deep breath as if to steel himself, then pulls the breadcloth off of the plate. The motion reveals a small stack of light purple macarons, perfectly puffed, pretty enough to make Adriano Zumbo eat his heart out. They smell divine, too, and Jaskier leans in to take a whiff and identifies a light, floral scent with a hint of citrus underneath. It smells just like--

"Lavender and lemon," Eskel says breathlessly, looking at Jaskier as if searching for signs of his approval or rejection on his face. "You told me that you hadn't been able to find these anywhere, but they were your favorite. Like I said, it was a new recipe for me, so I had to go do some digging online until I found a recipe, and I've made like ten batches this week before I felt like I got it right. Or right enough, anyways. I wanted you to be the first to try this batch, so you could tell me if you like it. If you want to, I mean."

It's hard to make Jaskier speechless. He's known for filling silences, whether they need filling or not. It's his superpower. To catch him so off guard that he has nothing to say for once is a monumental feat, one that deserves marking down in the history books.

He's speechless.

This was an echo of a conversation that he and Eskel had once had nearly a month ago, mere days after they'd met. It had been a casual comment, when asked what his favorite baked good was, and he mentioned the older woman who used to babysit him after school when his parents worked late, which was all the time. She would make him lavender and lemon macarons whenever he was sad, just to make him smile, and since she'd died over fifteen years ago, he'd never been able to find the combination anywhere. It had been an offhanded story, just a stepping stone on the way to declaring that chocolate chip cookies are the gods of the bakery world, and he'd expected Eskel to forget the words as soon as Jaskier was done chattering them.

But he hadn't, of course he hadn't, and he'd gone out and found a recipe and made them. Not even once, which would have been kindness enough, but over and over again in secrecy until he stumbled upon a batch that he felt was good enough to present to Jaskier. All because he'd mentioned a story once, in passing, about a long departed friend and a sweet memory she took with her. All for him.

Jaskier reaches across the counter, grabs the front of Eskel's apron, and pulls him in for a kiss.

There's one surprised little gasp out of Eskel's mouth before he starts kissing back, lips urgent against Jaskier's. The plate of macarons clatters a little against the counter as Eskel hurries to set it down, but then his big, warm hands are cupping Jaskier's face and that's a much better place for them, really. He makes a little noise like he wants to say something, but he must decide against it because in the next breath he's teasing at Jaskier's tongue with the tip of his own and dear sweet god does Jaskier want to keep kissing him forever.

For a minute it seems like he might get his wish, as they keep moving against one another's mouths with a somehow fevered contentment. "Eskel, please," Jaskier pants, though he isn't remotely sure what exactly he's asking for. Eskel sucks in a sharp breath like the words are a sucker punch, and then--

Eskel pulls back, a look of shock on his face, and says, "Oh,  _ fuck.  _ No, no, no, no!" before bolting from the room and out of Jaskier's sight.

The effect is immediate. Jaskier's stomach sinks, regret and embarrassment flooding him. What an idiotic thing to do, just kissing Eskel like that. All the flirting in the world doesn't mean that Eskel's actually interested in pursuing something with him, and Jaskier's gone and skipped ten steps ahead by ignoring the whole 'asking him out' thing to just yanking him around and kissing him for no reason. He could have at least asked him first, or something,  _ fuck. _

Worse, he'd done it in Eskel's place of work, which is not only unprofessional, but puts him in a really shitty position because he isn't free to leave if he wants. No wonder he ran into the back-- it's the only place that he can go to get away from Jaskier being a pushy asshole about what he wants. What Eskel apparently doesn't want.

So Jaskier turns and flees, too, because far be it from him to stick around where he isn't wanted and make someone else uncomfortable. Eskel deserves better than that. The bell on the door tinkles happily as he rushes out into the cool morning air, and Jaskier doesn't look back.

.....................

"You gonna get out of bed today?"

Priscilla's judgmental voice echoes in the little apartment, made tinny by his phone's speaker and made all the more scathing by the way that Jaskier can perfectly imagine the look on her face right now. When you've been friends as long as they have, every phone call might as well be FaceTime. She probably can visualize him sticking out his tongue at the phone as he replies, too. "I've been out of bed every day, you hag. I've been eating and showering and everything. Don't be dramatic."

"Dramatic? No, love, dramatic is what you've been doing. Technically you've been getting out of bed, but your spirit hasn't left it in a week. And most of the time your beautiful bottom hasn't either. You're moping."

"I prefer the term 'mourning,'" Jaskier haughtily replies.

"Call it whatever you want, bitch, doesn't change how unnecessary it is. First of all, no one died. Second of all, so you blew it with the pretty baker boy, so what? There are many, many other pretty boys in the world. And girls, and persons. Find a new masterpiece to lavish with your affections and move on, buttercup. You're too cute to be so sad."

He loves his best friend. He really, really does. Most of the time. Right now is not one of those times. "It's more than just the fact that he's good-looking, Pri. We had a connection. I really liked him, as a human. I miss talking to him, you know?"

"You could always go back and apologize, tell him that you're sorry for crossing that boundary and that you just want to go back to being friends if that's all he feels comfortable with. If he's a reasonable person, I'm sure he'd understand that. You said that He kissed you back, so he can't be  _ that _ disgusted with you."

"Yeah, he kissed me back, then said, 'Fuck no!' and ran away," gripes Jaskier. From his vantage point currently sprawled starfish-style on the floor, he can see the spot on the ceiling where the paint is starting to peel sadly away from the drywall. It's a mood. "He kissed me back because it was reflex. Then he actually thought about it and realized that it wasn't what he wanted. 'Fuck, no' is a pretty clear dismissal. Probably realized halfway through the kiss that he could do better than some broke wannabe novelist."

There's a long sigh from the other end of the line, and Jaskier can perfectly envision Pri frowning at him. She hates when he talks shit about himself. "I hate when you talk shit about yourself," she declares, right on cue. "You're a catch, Jaskier. He wouldn't have flirted with you so hard leading up to that kiss if he didn't like you in some respect."

That's the crux of the problem. Eskel may like him well enough, but that doesn't do Jaskier any good if it isn't in the same way that Jaskier likes him. It also doesn't help if he's gone and scared the man off. "Yeah, I guess," he says noncomittally.

"The real tragedy is that you can't get any more free donuts." She's trying to cheer him up now, the heinous creature. "You had the hookup, there, and now you'll have to pay for your sugar highs like a mere mortal."

"I said he always  _ tried _ to give me the stuff for free, doesn't mean I actually took him up on it," Jaskier snorted. "I'm not a monster. I always put money in the tip jar before I-- oh,  _ shit, _ I just realized I didn't pay him that last day," he groans, suddenly realizing his mistake. "I rushed out so fast that I didn't even pay for the coffee and donut he gave me."

"Wow, you're really the worst person on the planet," Priscilla says drily. "I'm sure that six dollars isn't going to break his finances. He'll be fine."

"Yeah, but it's the principle of the matter! I should go back, pay for the food at least." He hates the idea, he really does, but it wouldn't be right to ignore a debt. "I could go in the afternoon, when one of the other ones is working."

"Or --hear me out, I know this is some wild shit-- you could go in the morning, when Eskel is working, and actually talk to him like an adult. Just throwing that out there."

"I hate you," Jaskier tells her, just so she knows.

"I love you, too, buddy."

.....................

He goes in the afternoon, because he's a coward. He won't try to pretend it's anything other than that. He can't face Eskel, or he won't, or however you want to slice and dice it. The money is all going to the same place, anyways. He'll just walk in there, tell whoever's at the counter that he forgot to pay the other day, hand them the money, and get the fuck out of there. Simple as that.

It's the mysterious third brother working, Lambert, a little slighter than the others with dark hair cut close to his head. Jaskier can see through the storefront window that he's sitting up on the back counter, cross legged, piping decoration onto a cookie and singing along at the top of his lungs to the music playing in the background. He isn't even paying the door any attention. This could work in his favor. It's only a few feet from the door to the tip jar, so if he could just manage to slip over there for a second or two--

The bell jingles above his head, and Lambert looks up from his cookie with vague interest. "What's up, welcome to Kaer Morsels or whatever. What do you want?"

"Oh, uh, nothing for me, thanks," Jaskier says, voice a little squeaky. "Sorry, I actually-- well, I accidentally ran out on a tab about a week or so ago, and I've only just realized, so I was just going to pop in and give you this, and then, uh, be on my way. Sorry about that." He waves the folded bill in Lambert's direction and places it carefully on top of the display case. "Right, well, have a nice day--"

"Wait, hold on a second," Lambert says, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes a bit as he inspects Jaskier. "You're that dude Kelly keeps talking about, the one with the pretentious ass name that shouldn't start with a J."

"Jaskier is a perfectly respectable Polish word that means 'buttercup,' you asshole," Jaskier tells him, startled into the confession more than anything else.

"Jaskier, that's it! So  _ you're _ the one he won't shut up about." Lambert eyes him even more critically now, his gaze sharp and searching. "Been in a real shitty mood this week, you know."

It doesn't sound like an accusation, but it sure feels like one. Jaskier winces, dropping his eyes to the display case so that he doesn't have to look at the man. He notices it's filled with different things than usually occupy it in the mornings, less donuts and scones and more cookies and other desserts. One pink-frosted heart with the words 'FUCK YOU' piped onto it feels like a personal attack. "Yeah, I-- sorry about that. I'm really not trying to cause any more trouble, I promise, I just wanted to make sure I settled up. I won't be back, I swear."

"No, wait, not like that," Lambert says, pulling a face. "I mean that he's been in a shitty mood  _ because _ you haven't been here. Every morning he gets all hopeful and shit, thinking maybe you'll be back, and then you don't show up and he starts acting like he's got a stick up his ass. Nah, he'd probably like that. Like a porcupine up his ass or something."

That bizarre mental image aside, Jaskier isn't quite sure how to process this information. "He...  _ wants _ to see me?"

Lambert considers the half-decorated cookie in his hand for a moment, then shoves about half of it into his mouth in a single massive bite. "Betcha five bucks he'd shit his pants if he walked out here and saw you," he says around a mouthful of confection.

"Walked out--" Jaskier's heart starts rabbiting faster in his chest. "You mean he's here? Like he's--?"

"Oh yeah, that asshole doesn't ever stop working. He's here open to close because he has no fucking life. Yo, Kelly!" he shouts in the general direction of the kitchen before Jaskier can stop him.

He should run, probably. It's the only logical course of action to avoid complete and utter humiliation. And yet... he remembers what Lambert had said about Eskel's hope every morning, and he stays. There's a small chance that he might have gotten this wrong, and if he did..."

There's a clatter from the kitchen, and then Eskel's low voice snaps, "What?"

"Come out here for a second," Lambert calls. "Wanna show you something."

"I don't give a shit what you put on the cookies, Lamb, just get them done and put them in the case."

"It's not a cookie, but it is a snack!" Lambert winks at Jaskier, who's still rooted in place by nerves alone. "Your little boyfriend just walked in."

There's the sound of glass breaking, forcefully, like something was thrown into a metal sink with a little too much ferocity. "That wasn't fucking funny the first three times and it isn't funny now. Shut the fuck up about it."

"It was fucking hilarious the first three times, actually, you just have the personality of a wet tortilla," Lambert snorts, finishing off the rest of the cookie he's eating and picking up another to actually decorate. "And apparently you need glasses, too. He's not a twink, he's obviously a twunk."

"Lambert I swear to god, if you don't shut the  _ fuck _ up I'm going to fire your ass and tell Aiden you have a raging case of--"

Eskel's voice gets a little louder with each word, until finally he storms through the curtained entrance between the two spaces with an angry flourish. His face is scowling, neck flushed with his irritation, and his eyes go immediately to the brother he looks like he's considering murdering. Jaskier watches as his presence dawns on Eskel's face with comical clarity, head turning to look at Jaskier instead with wide, surprised eyes.

Lambert gives a self satisfied hum and hops off the counter, picking up the tray of cookies he's working on before moving to the display case and plucking Jaskier's sacrificial money off of the top. "See?" he says, wiggling the cash at Jaskier. "Told you he'd lose it. Later, dweebs." He disappears into the back with a whistle and a grin.

"He's kind of a dick," Jaskier says after a moment.

"You came back," Eskel interrupts like he hasn't heard a thing that Lambert or Jaskier has said in the last thirty seconds. Which, given the dazed look on his face, he might not have. "I didn't think you would. Listen, Jaskier, about the kiss--"

"I'm sorry," blurts Jaskier at the same moment that Eskel says, "It was a great kiss."

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Eskel frowns. coming around the counter slowly, carefully, like he's approaching a skittish animal.

"Sorry for kissing you. I should have asked first instead of just doing it," Jaskier clarifies, mournful. "I thought you were into it, but then you ran off..."

"Because I remembered the tray of biscuits I put in the oven that were about to start burning. It wasn't you, I  _ swear  _ it wasn't you," Eskel says firmly. "I was definitely into it. Very into it. I'm debating never putting anything into an oven ever again, just so that I never run the risk of interrupting a moment with you again."

Warmth fills Jaskier's belly, replacing the cold fear that had wrapped around his heart upon hearing that Eskel was here. "That's probably not going to go over well with your customers at the bakery, here," he points out, a slow smile budding on his lips. "You're pretty good at baking things."

"Yeah, well, sacrifices must be made," reasons Eskel, just the hint of a smile on his own face. 

Emboldened, Jaskier steps forward, a little closer to Eskel. "So... good kiss, then, you say? Good enough to want a repeat?"

"Definitely want a repeat," Eskel hurries to assure him, closing the rest of the distance. He reaches out and places a hand on Jaskier's waist, the pressure barely there, but even still the contact is all Jaskier can think about for a moment. He reaches up and drapes his arms around Eskel's neck, bringing them close enough for warm breath to brush across skin. "Many repeats. As many as you'll give me, really."

"Well, let's start with one and keep counting, how about that?"

Eskel kisses him this time, slow and gentle, his hands pressing Jaskier close. It isn't isn't rushed, despite their eagerness, or even dirty, despite they way that they're glued to one another. It is achingly intimate, though, like a conversation between them that needs no words, and Jaskier wants to talk for hours like this, just lips to lips.

It's hard to say how long it is before the opening of the door and that damned bell's little chime forces them apart, but however long they've been kissing, it isn't nearly long enough for Jaskier's taste. Eskel glances over Jaskier's shoulder, but only for a second. "Hey, Aiden," he says, returning to nuzzling at Jaskier's throat. "Go ahead to the back, Lambert's back there."

"Sorry to interrupt pleasure with business," says a voice that's thick with amusement. Jaskier looks over his shoulder and sees an olive-skinned man with curly dark hair and a wicked smile looking at them. He has on a tee shirt with some sort of company logo and jeans that have seen better days, the sweat and dirt on his skin marking him as someone who works hard for his living. The mischievous look in his eyes marks him as someone Eskel must work with on a regular basis. "See, I was under the impression that this was a bakery, not a brothel, but--"

"Don't you have some goods to stock or something?" Eskel sighs, looking towards the ceiling with a mournful expression.

"Right, right, I'll just get right to that. Hate to be unprofessional in front of a colleague." Aiden disappears into the back, sparking the muffled sounds of conversation between him and Lambert in the back. Someone laughs, and a back door is opened, and the general sounds of the day continue on without them.

"I really should let you get back to work," Jaskier says regretfully. "It's actual business hours for you now. Other people need a piece of you, too."

"I don't want to work," Eskel huffs. "I shouldn't have to. This isn't fair."

"What if I promise to come back first thing in the morning? And I leave you with my number, so that you can text me while you work? I don't know how tough the boss is around here as far as phone policy, but..."

The smile pulls at Eskel's lips when he leans in to kiss Jaskier again, but it doesn't make the kiss any less nice. "I think I can get him to come around on the issue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See now don't let anyone tell you I'm not a nice person because I didn't even make you suffer a cliffhanger there
> 
> One more chapter for this story, and Imma be honest it's all porn so
> 
> stfustucky | tubmlr  
> @stfustucky | twitter  
> Charlie Stfustucky#3055 | discord


	3. Chapter 3

Jaskier makes good on his promise and is there at the door of Kaer Morsels at 6 o'clock sharp. Five minutes early, in fact, so that Eskel has to come unlock the door and pull Jaskier inside for a good morning kiss. "Hey," Jaskier says when he's allowed to draw back to take a breath. "Slow down, I told you I'd come back. Can't have missed me  _ that  _ much."

"I'm working off a deficit," Eskel explains, kissing Jaskier's jaw instead. "You know how many mornings you walked in here and I wanted to drop everything and kiss you?"

He's probably just flattering Jaskier, but regardless, it's working. "How many?"

"Enough that it'll take a while for me to get close to breaking even. But wait here a minute, I have something for you." He pulls away with reluctance, moving towards the kitchen.

"Is it those lavender and lemon macarons that I never did end up trying?" Jaskier asks curiously, wandering over to the display case to see what's there this morning. Blueberry scones, always a winner. He wonders how long before he can start paying for things in sexual favors, now that he and Eskel are some kind of a thing.

Eskel freezes at his words, brow furrowing. "Oh. Uh, no, not the macarons. Fuck, I should have thought to make those, of course you'd want them. I could make some for you now, if you wanted--"

"It's okay, really, you can make them for me another time," Jaskier laughs, charmed by Eskel's eagerness. Will he ever get tired of this overgrown puppy? "I'm sure whatever you've got for me, I'll love it. Go, hurry up, I want to kiss you some more."

When the baker returns, it's with one of the decorative little boxes that the shop uses to bundle up single treats to send home with customers who are crazy people and have the self control to not eat them right on the spot. "I had some help from Lambert. He's our decorator, so he's better with the fiddly icing work than I am. A special message from me to you."

Curiosity piqued, Jaskier wastes no time opening up the little box to investigate its contents. Inside is a sugar cookie decorated with sky blue icing that spells out, in crisp, cheerful lettering,  **Thanks for cumming on my back!**

"That is indeed quite the cookie," Jaskier says after a moment, covering his mouth to hide a smile. "I think you have me confused with someone else, though, dear. I haven't had the pleasure yet, I'm afraid."

"What?" Eskel looks at him for a second, bewildered, before taking the box back from Jaskier to look inside for himself. A quick second to scan the writing, and then Eskel is groaning and looking to the ceiling for guidance. "That fucking asshole. I swear, this isn't what I told him to write. I wanted it to say 'Thanks for  _ coming back." _

"Ah, that makes so much more sense," snorts Jaskier, reaching into the box to grab the cookie and take a bite. It's as delicious as it is obscene. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to the proposition. Just seems a little premature to thank me before I've done any work."

He's watching Eskel's face as he says it, waiting for a blush or at least a startle at his bold words, which is why he gets the pleasure of watching Eskel's pupils dilate with want. He watches that pretty yellow-green color disappear, swallowed up by black, unmistakable in meaning when paired with the way his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Eskel looks like he's planning on devouring Jaskier right there on the spot, and all Jaskier can think is  _ fuck yes. _

"How mad are you going to be if I take that cookie away from you right now?" Eskel asks him, voice rumbling.

Jaskier tosses it back in the box carelessly. "Meh, I've got better things to get my hands on."

The kiss gets heavy fast, far faster than Jaskier had anticipated. Not that he's surprised; they're alone at last, with no barrier between them and no one around, and Eskel is...  _ Eskel. _ Not like he can be expected to keep his hands off of the man. And when those strong arms are pulling him in close, holding them together so that Jaskier can feel Eskel's cock growing hard against his hip while his own body responds in kind, it's a big ask to expect that they might keep it chaste.

When he snakes his hand beneath Eskel's tee shirt to feel bare skin beneath his palm, the shudder that runs through his body is enough to fuel Jaskier's fantasies for weeks. All of a sudden they're moving, Eskel walking them backwards without breaking the kiss, until they're close enough to the door that Eskel can turn the lock and flip the sign around to display a regretful,  _ Sorry, we're closed, _ to anyone who walks by. 

Jaskier grins as Eskel drags his mouth lower to kiss at the base of his throat. "Closing up the shop in the middle of operating hours? Tsk tsk, so irresponsible. What will your customers do without you?"

"They'll find somewhere else to eat for one morning," Eskel grumbles. "I'm busy."

With that, he wraps one arm firmly around Jaskier's waist and reaches down with the other to grip at the top of his thigh and lift him suddenly off the ground. Jaskier's legs wrap around him on instinct, and he groans a little at how stupidly fucking hot it is to be manhandled like that. He's not exactly skin and bones himself, filled out with a fair amount of muscle, but he feels like a feather being carried into the kitchen and deposited on a worktable so that Eskel can hold him close and kiss him with more privacy.

It occurs to Jaskier that this is the first time he's been back here and he ought to look around and see what it's like, but he really can't find the motivation to care at the moment. His arms are draped over Eskel's shoulders, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, just enjoying the feeling of kissing and being kissed. Eskel's hands are much more ambitious, skimming over his thighs and his sides and his back like he's trying to memorize Jaskier's dimensions by touch alone.

When one of Eskel's hands, tucked beneath Jaskier's shirt, glides up his chest to thumb at one of his nipples, Jaskier's resulting full-body twitch of interest is enough to give him pause. "Hold up a second, Eskel. Alright, look, not that I'm not enjoying this," he reassures when Eskel pulls back to look at him with concern, "but things are getting a little heated and I need to know how far this is going."

"Whatever you're comfortable with," Eskel says earnestly. "If this is going too fast for you--"

Jaskier cuts him off with a finger on his lips, silencing him in an instant. "Darling, let's get one thing clear. I have never in my life been one to think with my brain when my dick has an opinion. I'm only asking on account of planning ahead. The way I see it, you've got two options here: either you can get me a glass of water and leave me alone for like 15 minutes until I can walk to the bus stop without making a spectacle of myself, or you can take off all this annoying clothing preventing me from seeing you naked and we can have sex. Pick your poison."

Eskel blinks at him in surprise. "Is... is that a trick question?"

"Not at all. I'm completely fine with either option. It's up to you, whichever way you want this--"

"The second way," Eskel hurries to say, swallowing hard. "Definitely the second way, fuck."

"Oh, thank god. I wouldn't have held it against you if you'd picked the first option but Jesus Christ am I excited to get naked with you." That was quite enough conversation for the moment, and Jaskier pulls Eskel back in for another kiss by the back of his neck. How can a person's lips taste so fucking good?

For his part, Eskel seems determined to advance this timeline right along. His hand is cupping Jaskier's cock through the front of his jeans, squeezing lightly and drawing a groan out of him that Eskel greedily swallows. That's only a brief stop along the way to undressing Jaskier, apparently, since a breath later he's got his hands at the button of Jaskier's jeans and is fumbling to get it open.

"Unless you happen to have lube in this kitchen, we need a change of venue," Jaskier says, batting his hand away.

Eskel tilts his head to the side as if considering, then hums, "Well, there's some olive oil in the pantry, we could always--"

"Not a fucking chance!" Jaskier laughs, shoving at Eskel's chest for his cheekiness. Eskel snickers back at him. "I'm not about to get an infection just because  _ you're _ too horny to wait until we're in a proper bed with proper amenities. Look, my apartment is only like 20 minutes away if you count the walk to the bus stop and the ride itself--"

"I can do you one better," Eskel says with a grin. "My apartment is upstairs."

"No shit?" Jaskier says with an answering smile. "God, that's convenient."

"I don't know how clean it is, since I wasn't expecting company." Eskel's face falls a little bit as the thought occurs to him, and he frowns up at the ceiling as if he might develop x-ray vision and be able to inspect the space from down here. "And it's not much, I mean most of my cash goes to the bank to pay off the mortgage for this place, but--"

"Eskel, if it has a bed and a bottle of lube in it, it's perfect. Actually, the bed is negotiable. I'd settle for a couch, or even a table. Walls would do in a pinch, but If I can have my druthers I do generally prefer to be horizontal."

Imagining all of the positions seems to have gotten to Eskel, and he's going in for another kiss even as his hands pull him off of the counter and onto his feet.He quickly jogs around the kitchen, turning off all of the various appliances, which is probably a good idea since having the building burn down around them would probably kill the mood a little. "Stairs are that way," he says when he’s done, nudging Jaskier towards a door off to one side that has a little keypad lock on it. Eskel types in the code, and spends the few seconds it takes for the door to unlock itself removing Jaskier's shirt and decorating the floor at the bottom of the stairs with it.

Clothing starts coming off in a hurry now, shoes and socks and aprons and jeans littered on every step. It's a slow climb, considering that any time they're not actively disrobing, they're doing more kissing and touching than they are walking up the stairs. It's impossible to resist the temptation, when Eskel's body is being revealed bit by glorious bit and it looks like  _ that, _ all muscle and dark hair and good  _ grief _ is that a nice cock.

It's almost a fatally beautiful cock, because when Jaskier first gets a good look at it he gets so distracted he loses track of his footing and almost somersaults right back down the steps again. Something tells him that a broken neck would have probably called a premature end to this encounter. Luckily Eskel is there to catch him, and they wind up with Jaskier on his back three quarters of the way up the stairs in one sock and his briefs, caged in by Eskel who only has his tee shirt left.

"We probably look so stupid right now," Jaskier giggles.

Eskel answers by scraping his eyes down Jaskier's bare chest to the bulge in his briefs and then follows that with his lips, leaving open-mouthed kisses all the way down. "I don't know, looks pretty good to me."

They make it all the way up the stairs and to Eskel's bedroom by some miracle, and Jaskier slows for a moment to take a look around, curious. It's modest, certainly, but not any more so than Jaskier's own one-bedroom apartment. The bed is halfway made, the dark blue comforter pulled messily up towards the pillows in a haphazard fashion, and Jaskier crawls onto it happily.

"So how are we doing this?" he asks, not in the mood to beat around the bush when there’s a promise of such very lovely things on the horizon. "Have anything in particular in mind?"

He's not expecting the words to make Eskel blush quite that hard, considering how very openly enthusiastic he was just a minute or two ago. He clears his throat nervously before answering. "If you want, you could fuck me."

"Well, shit, I was gonna say the same thing," Jaskier says with a breathy laugh. "Oh god. It's a real life case of 'but they were both bottoms!'"

"I like it both ways," Eskel mumbles. "I uh, I switch."

"Oh good, me too." His sigh of relief is as genuine as it is dramatic. His dick is very excited at the prospects of both fucking and being fucked by this beautiful brick house of a man, and being denied either of those promises might have made him cry. "Rock paper scissors you for it. Winner bottoms for round one."

"You're on. No cheating, Jask, I'm watching you."

A moment later, Jaskier's splayed palm is wrapped around Eskel's fist in victory. "Ha! Take that, sucker, I win!"

"And yet no one really loses here," muses Eskel. 

He kisses Jaskier briefly and leaves the bed to go dig around in the bathroom, because he's apparently some sort of animal who doesn't keep lube and condoms within arm's reach of his bed at all times. That won't last long. If Jaskier has his way, they'll be spending many more days exactly like this, and Eskel will learn to prioritize his nightstand space more effectively. "I knew there was a reason I took that nice long shower this morning," Jaskier remarks as Eskel makes his way back, spreading his legs invitingly. The underwear are long gone, which means he's fully on display for Eskel like this, and damn proud to be.

"Showering before going to see the guy you're... dating. That's a bit optimistic, don't you think?" Eskel teases with no reproach.

"Says the guy who was pre-stocked with a 'thanks for the sex' cookie."

"That was Lambert," argues Eskel, but it's only a mumble. He doesn't even look like his heart is in the words. He's too distracted looking everywhere on Jaskier's body all at once, eyes hungry. It's such a good look on him, and it makes Jaskier thrill from head to toe to know that it's all because of him alone. “He does this shit on purpose just to piss me off. It’s a compulsion for him. Geralt and I tried to swirly some sense into him as a kid, but--”

"Hey, Eskel?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking about your brother and get over here and make me feel good."

Eskel makes a little noise at the command and does as he's bidden, wasting no time getting onto the bed and into his place between Jaskier's legs. He takes a moment to kiss Jaskier, hands caressing his thighs where he wraps them around Eskel's hips, fingertips playing in the soft hair that covers them. Jaskier can't help but shiver at the sensation, and Eskel's breath catches in response. "Ticklish?"

"Just sensitive. You should consider growing a beard."

Jaskier can practically see the gears turning in Eskel's head as he connects those two statements, and then the man takes a slow, deep breath in and out before he can speak. "Noted," he says, sounding a little strangled. "Fuck, can I put my mouth on you?"

Is it ever going to get old, how easily overwhelmed Eskel is? Probably not, if the way that it makes Jaskier's cock twitch now is any indication. "Darling, I'll never say no to that."

He's expecting --and eagerly anticipating-- for Eskel to wrap those gorgeous lips around his cock, and Jaskier holds his breath to brace himself for the sudden warm, wet pleasure. And he does get it, just in a little different way than he expected. When Eskel slides down Jaskier's body, his mouth glides right past Jaskier's cock with nothing but an errant kiss to the base and keeps going, until hands are spreading Jaskier's cheeks apart and holding him open and then there's a tongue licking broadly across his hole and  _ oh fuck yes,  _ that's a good option too.

Eskel is good at this. He's really,  _ really _ good at this and Jaskier has to wrap one hand in Eskel's hair and the other around his own cock just to hold on for dear life. He doesn't stroke himself --if he does  _ that, _ this is going to be over way sooner than Jaskier wants. He's just holding on, gripping tight, enjoying the sensation of Eskel's thumb tucked into his hole while his mouth sucks ever so lightly at the rim stretched around it.

When he's managed to work the digit in to the second knuckle, and a little pearly drop of precome has fallen to decorate Jaskier's wrist, he releases his grip to fumble around for the lube that Eskel had tossed carelessly on the bed like an idiot. Once located, Jaskier lays it on his own stomach right next to his cock like an offering on an altar. "Eskel, please?"

"God yes," Eskel immediately answers, withdrawing the spit-slicked finger carefully and taking the lube instead. He coats his fingers with it and presses one in, adding another when Jaskier takes it without a problem. That makes Jaskier shift a little with the discomfort --he's no blushing virgin, but it's been a while and  _ Christ _ those are some thick fingers-- but Eskel is as gentle and considerate as he stretches Jaskier open as he is in everything else. He doesn't seem to be in a rush, carefully coaxing Jaskier's body to relax and let him in with every roll of his wrist.

Eskel's unoccupied hand smooths over Jaskier's hip and eventually takes his cock, teasing lightly at the length with his warm palm as his fingers pump in and out of Jaskier's hole. With a little shuffling that makes his fingers drag over Jaskier's prostate hard enough to make him cry out, Eskel gets his mouth involved, too. It isn't enough, no where close to a proper blow job, just a curious mouth roaming over his balls and kissing at the base of his shaft. It's only enough to be a tease, especially when Eskel keeps recreating that pressure on his prostate and then licking up the precome that drips from Jaskier's slit every time.

"Alright, enough," Jaskier says, voice weak and breathy, after the three or four (hundred, possibly) repetitions of this routine. He's never been milked before and he isn't opposed to trying, but he had hoped to get Eskel's cock inside of him sometime today. "That's quite enough foreplay, Eskel, get on with it."

"Foreplay was flirting and making out, _ " _ Eskel argues, even as he complies. He continues to run his stupid, talented, beautiful mouth as he removes his fingers and uses them to open a condom and roll it onto his cock. "Foreplay is the stuff that happens before the sexual stuff, to get you in the mood. Fingering you isn't foreplay, it's  _ prep." _

"Yes, well, it's over now, is what it is," Jaskier says testily, wrapping one leg around Eskel and using it to pull the man forward. His cock brushes across Jaskier's hole, and it makes him shiver with anticipation to feel how big and how deliciously hard it is pressed up against such sensitive places. "Go on then, please? I want you inside of me, Eskel."

The noise Eskel makes is a little wounded in the best way, and when he leans in to kiss Jaskier, one of his hands plants itself firmly on the mattress beside Jaskier's head and the other slips down between them to guide his cock into Jaskier's body. There's just enough room between their mouths for Jaskier to suck in a breath and hold it, suspended for a moment as Eskel pushes in. The only part of him moving is the gears of his mind, frantically turning as he starts up a mantra of  _ let him in, relax, let him in, relax, let him in-- _

And then Eskel's hips are flush against the backs of Jaskier's thighs and the stretch is so fucking good and everything just falls into place.

Eskel moves his face into the curve of Jaskier's throat, and his warm breath on the skin there might have tickled if Jaskier didn't have other, much stronger sensations happening in his body that demanded his attention. What's a drag of lips compared to the digging of Eskel's fingertips into the soft flesh of his thigh? What's a nip of teeth at his jaw every now and again compared to Eskel's body meeting his with enough energy behind every snap that it threatens to shift Jaskier up the bed?

He doesn't do anything to hold himself steady; the only part of himself that Jaskier is in control of is the hand he uses to grip the back of Eskel's neck and hold him close. The rest of him is lax, just allowing himself to be taken by the perfect man above him. He doesn't need to do anything except lie there and take it, and it's fantastically indulgent to let Eskel hold him open and keep him where he's wanted and just let Jaskier feel for once.

He's drunk on it, that's the only way to describe it. Every drag of Eskel's cock inside of him sends little waves of sensation through him, like when he's had a few too many margaritas and every step makes his body feel like a leaf floating on a breeze in the very best way. He lets himself float, showing his appreciation with his fevered whisper of Eskel's name and the instinctive flutter of his hole around Eskel's length every time the angle is just right. His own cock is throbbing, caught between their bodies and being skimmed with friction with every thrust. If he could just find the willpower to arch his back a little more, to press his belly up towards Eskel...

But then, without warning, Eskel is stopping, hips flush with Jaskier's, not moving at all. He hasn't come --or if he has, it's the stillest, quietest orgasm in human history-- but seems instead to just be waiting for something, bracing himself on his forearms on top of Jaskier and shaking like a leaf.

"Eskel?" Jaskier asks, forcing his mouth to form real words with actual letters and volume to them. "What's the matter? Are you alright?"

"I need a minute," comes the answer through gritted teeth. "I can keep going, I just-- I just need a minute, or else I'm going to come."

"Fuck, so do it," Jaskier breathes, getting a firmer grip on the hair at the back of Eskel's head and using it to tug his face up so that Jaskier can see him. Somewhere deep inside of him, Eskel's cock flexes in response, and Jaskier gets to watch the little flicker of pleasure run across his features. "Why the hell wouldn't I want you to come while you fuck me?"

"Don't want it to be over," Eskel says in a rush, like he's eager to get the words off of his chest as he starts to move again. It's slower and shallower at first before it picks up speed again, like he can't help himself. "Want to keep fucking you forever."

"Not sure that's physically possible, love," Jaskier says. It starts off on a laugh, but ends on a moan. His arms feel like jelly as he reaches down to grab at his own thighs to hold himself open in order to feel every inch of Eskel. His skin is slick with sweat all over. "But I can promise you that we can do it again. And again, and again, and again..."

And then he has to let go of his thighs, reluctantly, because Eskel is positively pounding into him and kissing him breathless and Jaskier has to snake his arms up to wrap around Eskel's neck just to keep himself grounded. It doesn't last much longer than that. Eskel shifts his weight to one forearm and fumbles a hand between them to wrap a hand around Jaskier's cock and work it clumsily in time with his thrusts with a cracked, "Please, Jask--"

It's a close call as to who comes first, too close to really say. Jaskier feels his fingernails digging into Eskel's shoulders and his upper back, and feels a faint thud as the top of his head makes contact with the headboard with the force of Eskel's last proper thrust, and the rest is all a hazy, irrelevant blur of  _ fucking fantastic feelings.  _ There's not enough air in the room, or maybe Eskel is just stealing it all right out of Jaskier's lungs, and eventually he has to turn his face away just to be able to breathe.

It's a near thing, though. If he has to die, suffocation by kisses would be a good way to go.

Rough hands are all over him as they both struggle to regain control of themselves. Eskel takes handfuls --Jaskier's thighs, his arms, his hips-- and presses his fingers in like he's checking to make sure that Jaskier is still here and solid and real. It's a compulsion that Jaskier can relate to, in those hazy post-orgasm moments when everything has a slightly dream-like quality. He might be compelled to do the same if Eskel's bulk wasn't currently pressing him down into the bed like an oversized weighted blanket, silently and steadily assuring him of reality.

Eskel seems to realize he's crushing Jaskier right around then, murmuring an apology and heaving himself up with a defeated huff of effort. The sudden rush of cool air across Jaskier's skin makes him shiver, as does the feeling of Eskel pulling out of him at last. "Sorry, sorry," Eskel murmurs again, dropping a kiss to the center of Jaskier's chest as he ties off the condom and hauls himself off of the bed to throw it in the nearby trashcan. "Gimme a second, I'll grab something to clean you up, just--"

It's really fucking ridiculous for Jaskier to suddenly feel a rush of vulnerability the second that Eskel isn't touching him anymore. He isn't some insecure teenager in need of constant attention and validation. Nor is sex like it is in romance novels, where you do it once and the world shifts and everything is different. He knows that, he isn't stupid, but he finds himself reaching out and grabbing hold of Eskel's wrist anyways, unwilling to let him leave just this second. Not yet.

"It isn't just-- it wasn't just a one time thing, right?" he says, hating the way that his voice sounds small. "What I said-- we hadn't really talked about that, and I just assumed that you would want the same things as me, but... do you?"

Eskel could have laughed at him then, or rolled his eyes, and Jaskier couldn't even have been mad at him. It's a stupid question, after all. But of course Eskel doesn't laugh, or walk away, or do anything else that might have shattered the moment. He just leans in and presses a kiss to Jaskier's forehead, a smile on his lips. "You promised me again and again and again. No take backs, you cheater."

Jaskier laughs, surprised at the playfulness, and nods, letting Eskel pull away then so that he can walk to the adjoining bathroom. "Never let it be said that I'm not a man of my word," he calls out when the lump in his throat has gone down a little.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Besides," continues Eskel as he reappears, washcloth in hand, and begins to very gently wipe at the mess on Jaskier's stomach and cock and between his legs, "next time it's my turn to bottom. Not gonna miss out on that."

Apparently Jaskier's dick has not received notice that refractory periods exist, because it gives a little twitch of interest that Eskel definitely doesn't miss. He shoots Jaskier a wink as he finishes his task, then returns to the bed, laying on his back on top of the linens next to Jaskier. Grateful to be able to leave the sweaty, overheated spot on the bed that he's been occupying for the last twenty minutes, Jaskier takes the opportunity to roll over on top of the sweaty, overheated man instead. "You make a compelling point. In fact, you're making it very difficult for me to remember any reasons that I would ever want to leave this bed again."

"Mission accomplished," Eskel murmurs, flashing a smile up at Jaskier before he moves in for a kiss. It only lasts a second, though, before Eskel's body tenses under Jaskier's and he pulls away with a heated curse. "Ah,  _ fuck,  _ Geralt."

"The name's Jaskier, actually," Jaskier teases, raising an eyebrow at Eskel. "Geralt's your brother. Ordinarily I wouldn't mind the confusion, as he  _ is _ quite good looking, but considering that you just fucked me senseless, that feels like an important distinction to make."

"No, I mean-- I should call him," Eskel groans, passing a hand over his face tiredly. "Where's my phone?"

"Probably somewhere on your stairs, along with the rest of our worldly possessions," Jaskier says with a yawn. "Do you always call your little brother after you have sex? It's not a deal-breaker, I guess, but I'd like to at least know where these dynamics fall."

"I need to tell him not to come to work today," Eskel says with a laugh, sliding out from underneath Jaskier as gently as he could. Jaskier makes a huffing sound of disapproval but stretches out on his belly without argument. The sound of Eskel's voice gets fainter for a few moments as he leaves the room and follows the trail of their clothing through the apartment and stairwell in search of his phone. "His shift starts in a few hours, and if he comes in he's going to be pissed off that nothing got done all morning. Might as well just stay closed for the whole day. I'll have him call Lambert, too."

"Won't you lose a lot of money that way?" Jaskier calls out, hoping it doesn't sound indelicate. "Not that I don't like the sound of spending all day with you without worrying about anyone downstairs overhearing us."

Eskel is back, and he kisses the space between Jaskier's shoulderblades before he answers. "Meh, one day off won't destroy the books. And I have more important things to do."

Jaskier doesn't ask anything more about the subject --seriously, he's not going to argue with this plan  _ at all-- _ as Eskel climbs into bed somewhere above him and scrolls through his contacts to find Geralt and start the call. He doesn't have it on speakerphone, but they're close enough that Jaskier can hear the line ringing in the quiet room anyways. He does, however, question it when Eskel starts kissing down his spine while they wait for the call to connect, his fingertips dipping ever so slightly into the still-slick seam of Jaskier's ass. "I thought you said next time you wanted me to top?" he whispers.

"Mmm. I did say that, didn't I?"

The ringing stops then, interrupting their conversation, and Geralt's voice comes through the speaker quiet and tinny. "Hello?"

"Hey, Geralt. Listen, I'm closing the shop today, don't come in. You'll still get paid and all, but just... don't bother coming in. And you can tell Lambert I said the same."

There's a long pause. "Uh. Why?"

"I didn't work this morning, nothing is prepped for you. No point." A fingertip teases at Jaskier's still-sensitive hole, making his body jerk a little reflexively. He has to stifle a yelp to go along with it. Oh, he is going to make Eskel  _ pay _ for that.

"Are you sick?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm just... busy." Two fingertips now, just barely pressed inside, just enough to stretch at his rim, and Jaskier can't help sucking in a gasp against the pillow.

Maybe Geralt hears the little noise, or maybe he just knows Eskel too well, but either way, there's a note of understanding in his voice when he finally says, "Yeah, alright. I'll pass the word along. Have a good morning, Kell."

Eskel's hand running through Jaskier's hair makes him shiver with promise. "Yeah, I'm sure I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, this was titled "bakery au drabble" in my drafts folder. Isn't that cute how I thought I would be able to control my word count lmao
> 
> If you're into this verse and wanna see the laiden and geralt/regis sequels, make sure you subscribe! Tentatively titled "Lambert's gay awakening" and "sugarbaby dad Geralt" so that should tell you a lot
> 
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